The oil had come months ago now. They had thought it would disappear. It had always done so before.
But it had remained. It had refused to go. It had clung to them, like a desperate duckling clinging to a mother, only this duckling was parasite.
It had tainted them.
There was no escaping it. None whatsoever. They had tried it all, but it followed them. They wore it like a winter coat they had no reason for. It was summer now.
So he had set out, away. That had been his goal at first, but later when he saw the bleached corals, saw the geese drowning, he knew it had never been that at all. He had wanted something different all along.
So he kept on swimming. It had been easy at first but the oil accumulated gradually and started to drag him down. Now, a single yard travelled was a battle against him, against the water, against the oil.
Hating it wasn't enough. Going away wasn't enough.
He kept moving. There was no choice. There were no choices left.
A ship came. It was huge, a leviathan. It seemed untouchable, covered in barnacles, so much bigger than him. There was no oil on it. He stared at it hatefully, and did not move. He was willing.
It came closer. It was many ducks tall. There was no oil. This was hate, he decided. Hate was not being covered in oil. Hate was sinking, irreversibly.
When it hit him, he sunk slowly. "This is my sacrifice!" he quacked. He doubted anyone could hear him.
When he looked down, the bottom of the sea was covered in oil.